


First Words Are Stupid

by tyanite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, Soulmate AU, Tattoo, Wincestiel maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyanite/pseuds/tyanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Sam and Castiel try to make sense out of the Tattoos that showed up on their body on their eighteenth birthdays. Sam wonders how he can tell who it is supposed to be with something so generic, Cas questions why he has two tattoos and Dean wonders who the hell says 'perdition' in this day and age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Words Are Stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/68274) by tumblr. 



> Basically the idea for the AU is that on your eighteenth birthday, you wake up with the first thing your soul mate says to you tattooed on your body.
> 
> And then I joked about Dean getting the words "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition" tattooed on him and my hand slipped and I wrote a ficlet. 
> 
> Why does Cas have a soul-mate tattoo when he doesn't even have a soul? When would an angel even turn 18? Who knows!
> 
> My first posted fic and its not even beta-read. Whoops. 
> 
> Sorry in advanced. Kudos or Comments or whatever welcome!

"What the..." Dean looked at the black ink on his shoulder in the mirror. It was the morning of his eighteenth birthday and it had taken him the entirety of his morning routine and shower to wake up and notice that he had a new tattoo. He knew it would happen. After all, everyone got one. (Even their father had one, but a hunting accident had left it scarred and unreadable.) Yet somehow the reality hadn’t crossed Dean Winchesters mind until he was staring it down in the dirty motel bathroom mirror.

“Dean!” Sam pounded on the bathroom door, his voice cracking. “Hurry it up in there.”

Dean ignored his brother and read the neat, old fashioned lettering on his skin. “‘I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition’…” He read out loud. Then, he frowned. It was absolutely not what he was expecting for his very own soul mate tramp-stamp.

“Dean!”

He pulled open the door, nearly smacking into his little brother. “Finally!” Sam started but Dean stopped him.

“Dude, what the hell does ‘perdition’ mean?”

* * *

 

“What does it say?” Castiel asked, keeping his voice level.  

“‘Who are you?’… _Twice_.” Balthazar reported.

Cas frowned a little, and tried to twist around to see the inked letters that had appeared on his back. His shoulder blades to be precise. “Twice?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“I thought it was supposed to only be a sentence.”

“Who knows. Maybe your soul mate is just really slow or something.”

Cas sighed and pulled his shirt back on and rolled his shoulders. It didn’t matter, he decided, this soul mate nonsense was inconsequential in the end.

* * *

 

Sam glared annoyed at his wrist.

“Oh come on, cheer up.” Dean said, batting his brother’s floppy hair playfully. “It's not that bad.”

“‘Hello, Sam’?” Sam glared up at Dean. “That's the most generic thing I’ve ever seen! I could meet my soul mate and never know it with something as vague as that!”

“It could be worse.” Dean tried, pointing to his own shoulder. “I am fairly sure mine is some sort of stupid joke. Nobody talks like that anymore except for ministers and goth chicks, and I am _not_ going to be soul mates with somebody who wears a cross regularly.”

Sam laughed a little, seemingly cheered up. “Yeah, okay, it could be worse.” He conceded finally.

Dean smiled and playfully roughed his little brother’s hair again and Sam smacked his arm away and soon they were knocking each other back onto the bed and wrestling before Sam was crying defeat while Dean had his foot was his head, pinning him to the bed.

Four months, three days, and one argument later, and Sam Winchester would leave his brother and father behind, for good. Or at least, that's what they believed at the time. 

* * *

 

“Come on Sam!” Brady swung his arm around his friends neck, steering him away from the quiet corner he had been aiming for. “I want you to meet someone.”

“Dude…” Sam said, scowling. “I’ve got to study. I have an exam tomorrow and—“

“Jessica! Yo!” Brady said loudly, cutting Sam off. “This here is my good friend Sam Winchester.” Brady clasped Sam by the shoulder, smiling at the blonde girl sitting at the table, surrounded by a few students that Sam recognized vaguely from a couple of classes he had taken. “Sam, meet Jessica Moore. You both could really use a date, so have at it!”

Brady pushed Sam forward into an empty seat and Sam and the girl both blushed a little. Sam twisted back to give Brady an annoyed look but he had already disappeared into a crowd of people and the other students at the table laughed and made quick to disappear as well.

Sam scratched the back of his neck bashfully and turned back to the girl. “Uh—right…Sorry about him, he can be a jerk sometimes.” Sam said, smiling awkwardly. “So um, nice to meet you I guess.”

Jessica blinked a few times and then burst out laughing. Sam felt his face grow even hotter. “What? What did I say?”

She stood up and reached a hand to her tee-shirt, lifting it a little, just so that Sam could see the words tattooed across her stomach perfectly. They were his, the words he had just spoken. He blinked, the cogs turning in his head, trying to piece together what this meant.

“Hello, Sam.” Jess said through a smile as bright as day.

* * *

 

Dean balanced the demon blade by its tip on the table, looking at the older Hunter perched on the table in front of him. They had come so far, and it was frustratingly silent. After being brought back from Hell, after watching that…thing…blow Pamela’s eyes out, Dean wanted nothing more than to face down the monster or demon or witch or whatever that brought him back.

“Are you sure you did the ritual right?” He asked, annoyance in his voice.

Bobby gave him a look and Dean sighed.

“Sorry.” He put the knife down. “Touchy touchy, huh.”

Then, suddenly the roof bucked with the wind and Dean and Bobby jumped to their feat, watching the metal roof bucking and flapping.

“Wishful thinking but maybe its just the wind.” Dean said but neither of them believed it.

That's when the lights blew out and the door cracked open. Through the popping lights and the wind, Dean could see someone cross the threshold, solidly ignoring the traps and markings they had carefully painted all throughout the warehouse.

It appeared human, at least on first inspection. A man with dark hair, a blue tie and white shirt and tan trench coat. But Bobby and Dean knew better than to think for a minute just because it looked human that it was. They fired their shot guns at him but it didn’t even phase him. Three shots, rock salt, silver, rock salt. Not even a flinch.

Then he was in front of Dean, and Dean could see even in the darkness that his eyes were blue. Suddenly, Dean’s heart plummeted. _No_.

“Who are you?” He growled. Dean fought back the sheer panic in his throat. He reached behind him for the knife, gripping its handle. _No. No. Don’t you dare_.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” The man answered calmly.

_Well, Fuck._

"Yeah. Thanks for that." Dean said before stabbing his soul mate in the chest.


End file.
